


I Will Bring You Home

by RebaK1tten



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Past Relationship(s), no dub con!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 21:35:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1279699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebaK1tten/pseuds/RebaK1tten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the Steter prompt site, which needs more love!</p>
<p>Stiles gets lost in the woods and Peter finds him.  This is as 'comfort' as I think Peter could offer.</p>
<p>(I missed the 'dream walking' part, sorry!  I think someone else claimed this one, too!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Bring You Home

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [STETER_Prompts](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/STETER_Prompts) collection. 



 

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, fuck, fuck, fucking shit!”

It’s bad enough that his jeep broke down in the rain and he decided to hike back to Derek’s house which seemed a whole lot closer thirty minutes ago, but now it’s not just raining, it’s fucking pouring.

And Stiles has been in these woods before and when he left the jeep he was 100% certain where he was going (okay, maybe 90% sure, but still) and it shouldn’t be taking this long. He’s cold and soaking wet and it’s now completely dark and shit, he should see the house by now.

Normally he doesn’t startle at noises in the forest; after all, he’s friends with most of the noise makers. But tonight, it’s like every little thing is making him jump.

And fuck, that’s lightening, one of those rare California thunderstorms. Because of course, why wouldn’t there be? Stiles uses one of the flashes to try to get his bearings and realizes he has no idea where he is. For the amount of time he’s been walking, he should be able to see the house. However, there’s no sign of it, no familiar, comforting lights leading him in.  

The next time there’s a flash, he looks for stars to help guide him, but of course there’s nothing in the sky but clouds. And while he’s looking up and walking, he slips on some mud, twisting his ankle and landing on his face.

“Fuck my life,” he mutters, trying to push himself up. His hand hits another patch of mud and in the second before he face plants in the mud again, he feels something grab his collar and pull him to his feet.

“Stop fidgeting,” Peter snips, “and don’t get any mud on me, I’m already wet enough.”

“What are you doing here, were you following me?”

“Yes, Stiles, of course, you’re the center of my universe.” Peter watches Stiles grimace when he takes a step on his hurt ankle. “Can you walk back to the car?”

Stiles wipes his face with the back of his semi-clean hand and tries wiping his hand on his butt, which is slightly less dirty than his front. “I don’t know, where’s the car? How do you know where my car is?”

“I was driving by and I saw your jeep parked by the side of the road. You weren’t by it, so I came to look for you. What happened to your phone?” Even soaked, Peter manages to look completely bored.

“Battery died and I was going to Derek’s, I think it’s …” Stiles looks around and points ahead of them. “It’s over there, isn’t it?”

“No,” Peter says, sighing loudly. “That would lead you to the lake. You really are lost. Can you walk? It’s about a mile to the car.”

“Are you sure? I’m sure I’m almost at the house.”

In the dark, Stiles can hear Peter rolls his eyes as he replies, “No, I’m not sure. After all, I just grew up here and I can see in the dark, but you’re probably right, Stiles. You lead the way. Or maybe I should just go back to my car and you’ll be fine on your own.”

Peter turns to leave and Stiles grabs his arm. “No, sorry, Peter. You’re right, I’m sure, I’m just…” he sneezes hard enough to knock himself backwards and winces when steps on his bad ankle. “Ow! Hurts!”

Stiles thinks Peter looks concerned, although it could be a new face for annoyed. But he turns around and squats slightly, bracing his hands on his knees. “Okay, jump on and wrap your arms around my neck.”

“Are you kidding? You’re going to give me a piggy-back ride to your car?”

The wolf looks over his shoulder and says, “Your choices are I put you over my shoulder and you can look at my ass the whole way, which I know you do anyway. Or I can carry you like my new bride. Or you can quit being a baby and get on my back.”

“Only because I’m freezing,” Stiles says, sniffing, as he gets on Peter’s back, resting his head on Peter’s shoulder. He gasps a little when Peter grabs his legs and shifts and starts to jog back the way he came.

“Get snot in my hair and I will kill you,” he warns, his words slightly muffled because of his fangs.

It takes only a few minutes to get back to Peter’s car, which is parked just in front of Stiles’ jeep. Peter shifts before they get to the road, lets Stiles down by the car and starts rooting through his trunk, pulling out a large comforter and couple of towels.

“Here, wrap this around yourself and get in,” Peter says, shoving Stiles towards the passenger side. “Try not to get mud on everything, please.”

Stiles wraps himself up, pulling his head and cold ears into the blanket. Peter gets into the car after placing some towels on the car seat. “You okay?” he asks, cranking up the heat while pulling away.

“Sure,” Stiles lies, “thanks for coming to get me. Do I want to know why you have a comforter in the truck?”

“Why wouldn’t I, everyone should. Obviously, you don’t know when you’ll need one.”

“Hmm,” Stiles sniffs the blanket. “Doesn’t smell like a dead body, guess that’s good.”

“You don’t wrap a body in a blanket, you’d wrap it in a carpet; everyone knows that.” Peter drives fast, but even on the wet road, his sedan feels a lot more secure than Stiles’ jeep.

Stiles shakes his head inside his cocoon, still trying to stop shuddering. “No, you want something like a painter’s drop cloth for a body.” He’s silent for a bit, almost dozing off when he looks out the window at the passing scenery. “Hey, you passed my turnoff.”

“Um hmm. You’re coming to my house. My rescue, my rules.”

“Too tired to argue,” Stiles answers. “I think I’m almost warm.”

“Good, we’re here so you have to get back into the rain,” Peter says, getting out of the car to meet Stiles on his side.

Inside, Peter deposits him in the kitchen with instructions to strip and wash his hands in the sink and then wrap himself in a clean blanket. Stiles feels like he’s in slow motion and considers taking a quick nap on the kitchen floor when Peter comes back.

“Come on,” he says, pulling Stiles to the steamy bathroom and a tub filled with bubbles.

“Really?” Stiles asks, but when Peter leaves the room, he drops the blanket and sinks into the hot, fragrant water.

“Drink this and take these,” Peter orders, handing Stiles a glass and some pills.

“What is it?”

“Tylenol and scotch,” he says and stands next to the tub waiting. “Just hold your nose and drink it all at once.”

Peter looks like he’s not in the mood to argue, so Stiles does as he’s instructed. “Oh god, that’s awful, how do you drink that? Oh it’s warm, I’m warm. Okay.” He slips a little lower in the tub and sighs contentedly until he sees Peter sitting on the closed toilet. “Are you just going to sit and watch me? Creepy, Peter.”

Peter’s combing his still damp hair and quietly watching Stiles. “Seems like a good idea, I don’t want you falling asleep and drowning. No painter’s tarps and all the stores are closed. Don’t worry, Stiles, I put a lot of bubble bath in the tub to protect your modesty. Besides, you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.”

“Hey,” Stiles replies, pointing at Peter, “We agreed never to talk about that, it’s like it never happened.”

Peter smiles and looks rather, well, wolf-like. “I was referring to the fact that we’re both males, so there’s nothing you have that I haven’t seen. I certainly wasn’t referring to our lost weekend when you came over whining about how you’ll miss your friends with everyone going to college and then spending the weekend in bed with me.”

“It’s called a crazy drunken weekend for a reason. Did you forget the drinking part? Since you seem to have forgotten the ‘never speak of this again’ part.”

Peter smiles and raises an eyebrow. “You had less than a glass of wine before you plopped yourself on my lap. And the rest of the weekend, I don’t think you drank anything alcoholic at all. So tell me, Stiles, have you shared what I taught you with anyone from school?”

“No, I’ve been kind of busy taking classes and studying.” he answers, yawning. “It’s weird, I spent high school thinking I was pretty smart and now I have to study all the time.”

“Poor thing, forced to work for your education.” Peter kneels next to the tub and says, “Shut your eyes,” before he pushes Stiles under the water and scrubs his head.

Stiles pops up, sputtering “Dude! Remember, no killing!”

Peter rises and puts a stack of towels on the sink before he walks out of the bathroom, calling, “I think you’re clean and warm now. Dry off and come into the bedroom, please.”

“I don’t have any pajamas, but here’s a long sleeved t-shirt and clean boxers for you,” Peter says, handing the clothes to Stiles. “Your things are in the wash for you tomorrow.”

He picks up a book from the dresser and starts the leave the room when Stiles calls him back. “Peter? Where are you going? I don’t want to kick you out of your room.”

“I’m going to read for a bit and probably sleep on the couch.” His smile is almost gentle when he says, “You need your rest -- you had a rough night.”

“Well… I was really cold, and you’re really warm. Maybe we could cuddle? You know, cause I’m cold and stuff.”

“Really, Stiles? Isn’t ‘cuddling for warmth’ a bit of a cliché?” Peter answers, but he does come back into the bedroom and puts the book back on his dresser.

Stiles moves to the far side of the bed and flips back the comforter, shrugging. “Hey, it’s a favorite trope for a reason.”

When he gets into bed, Stiles arranges himself under Peter’s arm, resting his head on Peter’s shoulder. “Another secret. You can actually be pretty nice.”

He kisses Stiles’ head and pulls him in close. “It’s not a secret, it just applies to you.”

 

  


 


End file.
